A Place for Family

by Mia Ross

  Amanda’s situation presented him with a difficult choice. Either respect her wishes and keep his family in the dark, or tell them the truth and let Marianne make her own judgment.

  Or he could convince Amanda to tell them herself. Not only would it force everything out in the open, it would enable her to dust herself off and make plans for her future. Of course, with the very headstrong Amanda Gardner, that was easier said than done.

  His silence must have started to worry her. “Please, John? It’s been a long time since something went right for me.”

  Hoping to appear unconcerned, he grinned. “I can have blueberry pancakes whenever I want?”

  “Absolutely,” she breathed with a grateful smile.

  “Then it’s a deal.”

  He still had his misgivings, but after all she’d been through, knowing he could make her smile made him feel incredible.

  * * *

  The shifting emotions on John’s face had been simple enough for Amanda to read. Wariness when he saw her in the kitchen that morning. Concern for his sister and her babies. Then something darker that had no place shadowing his wide-open features.

  John was as different from the other men she’d known as the sun was from the moon. Over the years, she’d thought about her rugged country boy many times, wondering what he was doing, if he was happy. Now he was right in front of her, and she could see for herself how much he enjoyed his sweet, simple life.

  Get up at the crack of dawn, have breakfast with your family, work hard all day, play with the kids and the dog, go to sleep, repeat. Oh, and save the occasional damsel in distress. All of that flitted through her head in a heartbeat, and she realized she’d forgotten to do something very important yesterday.

  “John?” When his eyes met hers, she gulped down her pride and rushed on. “I want to thank you for all your help. You’ve been really great.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  For a fleeting moment, the twinkle she recalled so fondly lit his eyes. She was asking a lot, but she knew she could count on him to keep her secret. Then the suspicious look returned. “There’s something else. What is it?”

  Her heart thudded to a stop, and she berated herself for assuming she was in the clear. Perceptive as he was, she should have known better. Luckily for her, the kids chose that precise moment to come rushing downstairs for breakfast. They could work in showbiz, she thought with a grin. They had impeccable timing.

  “Waffles!” Kyle shouted before John got his attention with a finger over his lips. “Sorry,” he said more quietly, turning to Amanda. “But I really love waffles. Are they burning?”

  “Oh, no!” She’d forgotten all about them during her talk with John, and the griddle was smoking in protest. She flipped it open and used a towel to fan the smoke toward the open window. “Sorry, guys. I’ll make more.”

  “Not for me,” Emily mumbled. “I don’t feel good.”

  John’s frown alerted Amanda that his niece wasn’t the kind of kid who tried to dodge school with fake tummy aches. Resting a hand on the girl’s forehead, Amanda frowned, too. “That’s a fever, missy. No school for you.”

  The pocket doors slid open, and Marianne entered the kitchen, apparently drawn by some inexplicable maternal instinct. “Not feeling too well, Emmy?”

  “No.” Her lip quivered, and Marianne opened her arms wide. Looking miserable, Emily shook her head. “I don’t want to make you and the babies sick.”

  “You won’t.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “A hundred percent.” Marianne sat down on the bench near the table. “Mommies know these things.”

  She patted the seat beside her, and Emily cautiously joined her. When Marianne pulled her close, she snuggled in, closing her eyes as if everything was suddenly right with the world. Ridge appeared in the doorway and kissed the top of his daughter’s head before turning to Kyle.

  “I’ve gotta get some things at the hardware store,” he said. “If you want, we can grab breakfast at Ruthy’s Place, then you can help me pick up what I need. When we’re done, I’ll drop you off at school.”

  The boy grabbed his backpack, eyes bright with excitement. “Okay.”

  “Ridge, you must be really busy,” Amanda said. “I can take Kyle to school if you’ll just loan me your car.”

  Ridge traded a grin with his son. “Thanks, but we like to get some guy time once in a while, don’t we?”

  “Sure do.”

  “Just make sure he’s on time for his first class,” Marianne warned. “I don’t want to get another message from the attendance office and have to call all over town hunting for you two.”

  “We’ll either be at Ruthy’s or Harland Hardware.” Ridge paused to kiss her as he and Kyle headed for the door. “Not hard.”

  “Or the fairgrounds watching them bulldoze the dirt track, or at the airport watching the planes take off and land, or—” She was still talking when the screen door slammed shut behind them. Sighing, she pulled Emily in for a quick hug. “Those boys. What on earth will we do with them?”

  “Boys are nothing but trouble, Mommy. I’m glad one of our babies is a girl.”

  Smiling, Marianne broke a couple of pieces from John’s untouched waffles for her daughter. “Just eat a little bit, then we’ll give you something to get that fever down.”

  Reaching into the cupboard, Amanda handed a bottle of children’s fever medicine to Marianne. That was when she noticed Kyle’s lunch still sitting on the counter. She’d lost count of the mistakes she’d made this morning, and it was only six-thirty. “I’ll take Kyle’s lunch to school later. What time does he eat?”

  Marianne waved the idea away. “Don’t worry about it. He has a lunch account, so he can buy today. If he’s got any appetite left after the farmer’s breakfast Ruthy will feed him, that is.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Definitely,” her new boss assured her. “You look a little stressed. Sit down and have something to eat.”

  Touched by the concern, Amanda smiled. It was so nice to have someone looking out for her, instead of constantly fending for herself and pretending fate hadn’t buried her in an avalanche of failure.

  She poured herself a glass of orange juice and sat down at the table with a bowl of fruit. Hoping to reroute her morning onto a better track, she chose a pleasant topic. “So, you’re expecting a boy and a girl. Do you have names picked out yet?”

  “Andrew Ethan, and Chelsea Ann,” Emily replied proudly. “We all picked our favorite names and mixed them together.”

  “What a fabulous idea.” She glanced over at John. “How do you like being an uncle?”

  “It’s great. I get all the fun and none of the responsibility.”

  “You and Uncle Matt are the best uncles in the whole world,” Emily informed him. “We love you to pieces.”

  Recognizing the phrase, Amanda smiled at Marianne. “She sounds like you.”

  “Well, I don’t say it often,” she commented, handing her daughter a small pill. “When I do, I really mean it.”

  After obediently taking her medicine, the princess of the family gazed hopefully at her mother. “Can we watch Cinderella?”

  “Again?” John groaned. “We just watched it the other night. Twice.”

  “It’s my favorite.”

  “This week, anyway.”

  “You can pick next time,” she promised, getting a quick grin in reply.

  “Sounds good.” Pushing off from the table, he stood and took a pair of work gloves from the shelf near the door. “Enjoy your day, ladies. Once I fix our beast of a tractor, I’m hoping to get started on that new field today.”

  “Do you want something for lunch?” Marianne asked.

  Amanda mentally kicked herself for not thinking of that. She should have as
ked Ridge, too.

  “Nah. If I get hungry, I’ll wander back in.”

  “They’re predicting rain today,” Amanda warned.

  He shrugged as if it was no big deal. “God’s in charge of the weather. I just work with what He gives me.”

  Kissing Marianne’s cheek and ruffling Emily’s hair, he glanced at Amanda briefly before strolling out the door. The other two decided it was movie time and headed into the living room, leaving Amanda alone with her breakfast.

  While she munched on a piece of cantaloupe, Amanda watched John through the screen. As his long, easy strides took him toward the equipment barn, Amanda was struck by how different he was from the boy she’d known. Back then, he’d been a free spirit, and nothing had seemed to faze him. Now he worried, and despite his claim to have no responsibilities, it hadn’t taken her long to discover that was hardly the case. He had many, and he took them very seriously.

  But some things—the most important ones—hadn’t changed a bit. His comment about the weather reminded her how strong his faith had always been. Trusting in God seemed to give him an even-keeled perspective she envied. Devoted to his family, John had never lived anywhere but this farm, and she wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he wanted to be buried here, too. In between, he’d work his family’s land, devoting his considerable energy to whatever task needed to be done.

  Because that was the kind of guy he was. Grounded and content, not looking over the horizon, longing for something more. He’d been born into the life he was meant to live, and it suited him perfectly. While Amanda had restlessly pursued one dream after another, not once had she considered doing things differently.

  Now that her splashy dreams had come crashing down around her, she couldn’t help wondering if she’d chosen the wrong path.

  * * *

  Putting in this new field just might be the end of him.

  John slid the newly repaired engine into idle to cool it down. They hadn’t planted anything on this section of the farm since it flooded five years ago. In one sense that was good. The soil was well-rested and ready for crops. On the other hand, it was awful because the field grass had taken over, plunging its roots deep into the ground and wrapping around anything in its way.

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, the receding creek had left behind hundreds of rocks. They appeared where he least expected them, forcing him to get down and toss them free by hand when the plow couldn’t move them aside. At this rate he wouldn’t have time to plant anything here until next season.

  With those dark thoughts crowding each other in his mind, John climbed back up and moved the tractor along. In his imagination, he heard his father’s voice, wisely reminding him he had two choices. He could either give up or keep trying.

  After some serious internal debate, he kept working because quitting just didn’t sit right with him.

  At around one, the gray clouds that had been steadily advancing all day started grumbling with thunder. Normally, he would have grumbled right along, but today the storm was a relief. He was exhausted from his poor night’s sleep and a long morning of tedious work. In all honesty, he thought as he drove back to the equipment barn, he was ready for a nice, long nap.

  He didn’t know what was wrong with him. As he shut the engine down, he tried to remember the last time he’d had trouble sleeping. This time of year, most evenings he was so beat he dropped off as soon as he stretched out somewhere even remotely comfortable. He’d once spent an entire night snoozing on the front porch swing because he sat down to take off his boots and couldn’t go another step.

  He managed not to look over at Amanda’s tarp-covered wreck in the corner, knowing it would only make matters worse. Glad to leave his frustrations behind for a while, he battled the wind to slide the barn door closed. When he heard a frustrated scream, he turned to see what was up.

  Amanda was fighting the storm herself, struggling to pull a large quilt off the clothesline while it billowed out like a sail. Hustling over, he grabbed one end and held it steady while she yanked the clothespins free.

  A little out of breath, she thanked him. “For a few seconds there, I thought it was going to take off with me.”

  “It’s the least I could do, seeing as this is mine.”

  She gave him a look usually reserved for horror films. “It was covered in mud and other things I’d rather not think about. What did you do? Sleep in your boots?”

  He laughed. “Nah. Tucker and I had a sleepover a couple nights ago. It was late, and I didn’t check him over before he jumped up on my bed. I think he spent the day in the swamp.”

  “You shouldn’t let him in your house without hosing him off first.”

  “You sound like Marianne,” he teased. “It’s just dirt. No harm done.”

  “I guess.” Folding the quilt into a large square, she handed it to him. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.”

  It was awkward, standing there staring at each other. Amanda glanced around, then focused on something down the lane. “Marianne said you live in the old carriage house we played in when we were kids.”

  Even though Amanda had only been there a day, she’d blended into the farm’s routine so seamlessly that he’d forgotten how long she’d been gone. His instincts told him that meant something, but he didn’t want to think about it now, so he ignored the message.

  “When Marianne and the kids moved back here, they needed space in the main house. We fixed up the carriage house for me.”

  “Could I see it?”

  “Sure.”

  John shrugged, hoping to give the impression it didn’t matter one way or the other. Actually, as they walked down the path toward his small front porch, he was trying to remember if he’d collected his week’s worth of dirty clothes or if they were still in piles next to his unmade bed.

  Opening the door, he bit back a groan. The place was a disaster, and he could almost hear Marianne scolding him for inviting poor, unsuspecting company into a pigsty. To his surprise, Amanda started laughing.

  “You’re still a slob, Sawyer. It’s nice to know some things never change.”

  From the merriment dancing in her eyes, she meant it, so he laughed along with her. “Yeah, well, it works for me.”

  Moving inside, she assessed his home with an appreciative look. “This is great. I love how you left the old beams alone and worked around them.” Tipping her head back, she asked, “How high is this ceiling?”

  “Fourteen feet,” he answered proudly. “There’s another twelve feet of headroom upstairs.”

  She rested a hand on the crude ladder that led to his attic. “What’s up there?”

  “Nothing. It’s for later, when I want to expand.”

  “Expand?” she echoed, curiosity lighting those gorgeous eyes. “For what?”

  Busted. Trapped in his own words, John decided there was no harm in laying out his plans for her. “There’s enough space for a couple bedrooms and a bathroom up there. Then it would be a nice place for a family. Y’know, someday.”

  “You could put in a garden and patio out back.” She pointed through the French doors that framed his view of the pond like an old painting. “It would be really pretty.”

  That was exactly what he had in mind, and he was impressed that she’d matched his thoughts so easily. Then again, anyone could have done the same. The picture-perfect landscape outside his unused kitchen called out for enjoying. These days, he just didn’t have the time.

  Scoping out his digs, Amanda paused near the shelves that hung next to his door. His collection of trophies took up most of the space, but in the front, right where he could always see it, was something more valuable to him than all the shiny hardware he’d accumulated in high school.

  Taken at a church event in the square, the faded photo showed all six Sawyers on a checked bla
nket, enjoying one of the many picnics they’d shared. Only this one was special. A few months later, his mother had passed away from leukemia. It was the last picture of them all together, and his brother and sisters had their own framed copies. Wanting to preserve the moment forever, Lisa had painted an incredible version of it that now held the place of honor over the fireplace in the main house.

  Amanda touched the shelf but not the frame, as if she sensed how precious it was. “You all looked so happy that day.”

  “Yeah, we did.”

  “Do you ever miss your mom?”

  “I was only five when she died, so I don’t remember much. Mostly that she loved flowers and laughed a lot.”

  “That’s nice.”

  There wasn’t much to say after that. Putting thoughts of the past aside, John flung the quilt out and let it fall onto his bed. “Much better. Thanks for washing it.”

  Hands on her hips, she angled her head in disapproval. “You can’t be serious.”

  “What?”

  Sighing as if he’d suggested she get a manicure at the tractor supply store, she pulled the quilt loose and set it on a chair stacked with issues of Sports Illustrated he hadn’t had a chance to read. “Do you have any more sheets?”

  “In the bathroom.”

  “You go get them while I strip these.”

  “You don’t have to—” She gave him The Look, and he put up his hands in surrender. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good boy.”

  Pausing in the bathroom doorway, he turned back. “I don’t remember your being this bossy.”

  “I wasn’t, but I am now. Get over it.”

  As John rummaged in his linen closet for clean sheets, he couldn’t decide if he liked the new Amanda or if she was going to drive him completely over the edge.

  Chapter Four

  “In your face, machine.”

  Thursday morning, Amanda punched the final button for the whites wash sequence, getting a muted hum in reply. After a celebratory fist pump, she checked on the drier and found it was only halfway through its cycle. It felt like she’d been doing laundry continuously since she’d arrived. The trouble wasn’t the amount of clothes, towels and sheets, but the time gap between washing and drying. It took twice as long to dry each load as it did to wash it. At this rate, by the time she “finished” the laundry, there would be another pile waiting for her attention.